He look'd upon the dead And sorrow seem'd to lie, A weight of sorrow, ev'n like lead, Pale on the fast-shut eye. He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek, And the heavy hand of clay, Till bursting words—yet all too weak— Gave his soul's passion way. "Oh, father! is it vain, This late remorse and deep? Speak to me, father! once again, Were but this work undone, I would give England's crown, my sire! To hear thee bless thy son. 66 Speak to me! mighty grief Ere now the dust hath stirr'd! Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief, My king! I must be heard! -Hush'd, hush'd-how is it that I call And that thou answerest not? When was it thus ?-woe, woe for all "Thy silver hairs I see, So still, so sadly bright! And father, father! but for me, They had not been so white! Oh! for one moment of the past, To kneel and say- forgive!' "Thou wert the noblest king, On royal throne e'er seen; And thou didst wear, in knightly ring, Of all, the stateliest mien; And thou didst prove, where spears are proved In war, the bravest heart— -Oh! ever the renown'd and loved Thou wert-and there thou art! "Thou that my boyhood's guide Didst take fond joy to be!— The times I've sported at thy side, And climb'd thy parent-knee! And there before the blessed shrine, My sire! I see thee lie, -How will that sad still face of thine Look on me till I die!" 20 THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN TREE. "Here (at Brereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days." Camden's Britannia. YES! I have seen the ancient oak On the dark deep water cast, And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke, For the axe might never touch that tree, And the air was still as a summer-sea. I saw it fall, as falls a chief By an arrow in the fight, And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf, And the startled deer to their coverts drew, And the spray of the lake as a fountain's flew ! "Tis fall'n! but think thou not I weep For the forest's pride o'erthrown; An old man's tears lie far too deep, But by that sign too well I know, A youthful head, with its shining hair, But on his brow the mark is set Oh! could my life redeem him yet! He bounded by me as I gazed |